Page 15 of Of Flames and Fallacies

My mother, a loyalist to the King and kingdom.

Why did my mother never tell me how he died?

seven

HORNWOOD

I’m out of food. I should be used to the feeling of hunger, but it scrapes at my insides, blurring what little mental coherency I might have left after the long days of walking.

The gods must be smiling down on me because a faint outline of a town breaks the horizon in the distance. A few hours later, I paused on the outskirts. Judging by the tattered and worn roofs and the position of the town from Dragon’s Back Ridge, it’s Hornwood. I watch the townspeople shuffle back and forth between the streets, my hands sweating at the thought of having to dare into town.

If I get caught—Daeja and I are both dead. But if I don’t go, I’ll starve.

Dead again.

I swallow against the knot building in my throat and flick a glance toward Daeja perched on my shoulder. Her wide, white eyes meet mine. She dips her head low, and I pull my cloak’s hood over me. Daeja falls into silence as I tuck her back behindthe fall of my hair. As if she somehow understands what’s at stake.

I’m hoping the cover of my hair is enough to conceal her. Praying she has the sense not to wiggle or chirp as we pass through the crowds.

I try to quiet my nerves as we near the huddled buildings. Large gaping holes filled with murky water litter the roads. The townspeople zip by, muddy footprints scattered across the cobblestone road. Every lingering stare of passersby spikes my heart rate. I push by fast, tucking my head down as I go.

I watch where each of my steps land, trying to avoid any lifted cobblestones, pits in the ground, or water that might make me slip. Any stumble could dislodge Daeja, and then we’d both be doomed.

I find a merchant with baskets of bread loaves, their line wrapping into the busy street. I debate whether it’s worth the risk. The longer I wait, the greater the chance of getting caught. A mother with her young daughter stands in front of me. The little girl bounces back and forth, a doll hanging from her grasp.

Shouts erupt from deeper into town, and the crowd parts for a man racing through with multiple bottles held tight to his chest.

Another man appears hot on his heels, shouting and pointing. “After him! He’s stealing my whiskey!’’

People split to either side of the road as the thief sprints down the cobblestone. I jump back as the mother in front of me snags her daughter, ripping her out of the way just in time to dodge the thief. But the quickness of the movement knocks the doll out of the young girl’s grasp, landing on the ground a short distance away.

Daeja growls as the thief rockets past us, and the mother’s eyes find mine. I smile nervously, grabbing the doll off the ground after the thief disappears.

“Must have been my stomach…” I mutter, handing the doll back to the little girl.

The mother mouths her thank you, and they turn back into the line. When I make it to the front of the line, I fish out a coin and place it on the table. The baker frowns with a shake of his head. This would at least buy me one loaf back home. I slide him another to be met with the same response.

“Are there any other bakers in town that might have something I could purchase? Even if it’s spoiled…I’m traveling, and I can’t afford anything more than this.”

His eyes soften. “Unfortunately, our taxes have nearly tripled to pay the King for repairs to the town. Everything is expensive here, but if you go south to Groveden, you might have better luck. It’s a four day trek from here.”

“What about Blackfell?” I ask.

“That’s maybe another four or five days east.”

My heart sinks. I’m not sure we can last another four days, especially at our pace. I nod my thanks and turn back to the road, my heart and hope sinking with each step taking me out of the town.

A tap pats my shoulder, just under where Daeja lies. I turn, in part to avoid any further touching that may expose Daeja but also to see who it is.

The little girl with the doll presents me half a loaf of bread, then she scurries off back to her watchful mother. The woman smiles at me before dipping her head. The two of them disappear into the crowd.

I swallow against the tightness in my throat from such a kind gesture.

I tear off a piece of bread as I lean back against a boulder, offering a piece to Daeja who wrinkles her nose at the smell. With a shrug, I pop the piece into my mouth as I watch the distant outline of Hornwood from the shelter of the forest.

Four to five days until Blackfell. If I push myself, maybe I can get there faster. Maybe three, if I can start tonight.

Daeja must have slipped off. Because a few moments later, she bounds toward me with wide eyes and a dead mouse hanging from her mouth. She drops her kill on my lap as I squirm and shuffle backwards, its limp body flopping to the floor.

---